The two-lane highway is dark at 11:30 p.m. on a Sunday in November. Low piles of snow line the dry road, shining in the headlights, still clean though two days old. They still have 70 miles to go, and only a few cars and pickups appear at random intervals. The driver puts in a CD, chosen blindly in the dark, turning out to be a compilation made by a friend over 20 years past. Only 60 miles to go. Diet coke barely holds off numbing fatigue.
Your challenge: Who’s driving?